Happiness Is What You Make It
by Balance of Opposites
Summary: Orcs need Elves to further the Uruk-hai species. Follow the lives of Elrond's family, Thranduil's family, the Imladris guard, and a new family as they struggle through this and other of life's ordeals.
1. Chapter 1

Fall winds were starting to blow across the realm of Imladris and neighboring lands. The summer green had yet to show more than a slight sign of fading. The scent of late summer flowers lingered in the feint breeze. The sky was clear, the ground dry, and the air pleasant. The weather was perfect for riding. Nature called to its children to come and enjoy the themselves before fall came and ushered winter in.

Adding to the appeal of the weather, Orcs had been scarce of late. The guards of Imladris saw no reason to stop or accompany those who wished to venture out for a leisure ride. The Elves of Imladris knew not to venture too far from the borders unprepared. The guards trusted in the intelligence of their neighbors and friends.

Two young sisters of the realm took the splendid opportunity to ride beyond the borders, get away from the Last Homely House for a short time. They rarely left the borders, though they both graced the wilds within frequently. One honing her skills, the other getting away from everyone else.

The older sister rode easily along on her golden coated stallion. She listened to the breeze and nature all around them, her blood in time with the land like many Elves. Her fine, thick dark brown hair hung loose down her back, passed her waist, save for braids at her temples, which ran back to a small bun on the back of her skull. Her eyes, green as the summer grasses, watched the sky.

Her sister rode at her side. She was not as attentive to the call of nature, or ignored it if she was. She was more interesting in planning her next prank or hiding from those she felt did not accept her. Her hair was much shorter than her sisters, falling just below her shoulder blades when loose. She wore the top layer braided, the bottom loose. Uniquely, her hair was red, like their mother's had been. She was much more like their mother, who had been of the race of Men. She was short, by Elvish standards, a good half foot shorter than her sister. She was also curvy, much more so than slender, delicate Elf-maids. Her brown eyes were full of life as they rode along. Her red locks tossing lightly in the breeze while her sisters did not seem to move.

The younger sister looks to her sibling with a grin. "You know, father says it's time for you to settle down." Her sister was far from interested in settling down. She found the on going debate between her father and sister amusing. As long as his mind was set on Esterasúle, the longer he left her alone.

"So he keeps saying. I have yet to find anyone to settle with. Everyone is so... dull. It is the same old thing all the time with all of them." Granted, she was pretty routine herself, but she wanted someone that was not set to the standards of what life should be.

"I don't know. You seem pretty dull at times yourself."

Esterasúle gave her sister a look. Mirima was a prankster. She enjoyed conspiring with Elrond's twins on every occasion she could. "Just because I do not play all the time, does not mean I'm dull."

"I do not play all the time!" Mirima put her nose in the air, inching her horse ahead of her sister's.

"If you say so. I am surprised Imladris still stands with you and the twins running around."

"Lord Elrond built it well." She grinned again, inching her horse farther ahead of her sister's.

"Yes, he did. Of course, you are also lucky Sarafea didn't burn you alive when she caught you putting itching salts in her cloak last week."

"She's not that bad." Mirima shrugged. "I hear Erestor's worse."

"If you had gone to more of your studies as a child, you would have met him." Her displeasure of the fact Mirima had skipped out on her lessons was very clear.

"What can I learn in a stuffy old building that I can't out in nature?" She hated being stuck inside unable to go out when she wanted.

"I will give you that," Esterasúle agreed. She enjoyed being outside. She saw no reason lessons could not be taught outside when the weather agreed, but she also so the need for elflings to attend their lessons. "The day Lord Erestor gets his hands on you for a prank is the day you will be sorry, Sister."

"Then I'll just have to make sure he doesn't catch me when I help the twins this afternoon." Her grin nearly split her face.

"Dare I ask what it is you plan? No, never mind." She holds up a hand to ward off any answer. "I have no knowledge of it. I want no part."

"You can be cowardly sometimes."

"I am no coward," she bit back tersely. She would not allow her sister to call her one, either. I just do not wish to worry about your fate." She urged her horse ahead of her sister's, testing a theory.

Mirima noticed her sister's move and picked up her pace slightly, again moving ahead. "Don't worry so much. I'm fully capable of taking care of myself."

"Yes, I know." She was finished with the conversation of her sister's ability to get in and out of trouble. "It is getting cold early this year." She could feel the fall air and it was already laced with a bit of winter wind. Fall was going to be short.

"We still have plenty of summer left," Mirima argued. She inched her horse farther ahead of her sister's yet again. Esterasúle noted this but said nothing of it.

"Summer has passed. Look at the trees. Their green fades." The green looked as vibrant as ever to most, but she could see the very feint traces of the fading into fall. She was in tune to nature around her.

Mirima rolled her eyes. "You worry too much about such things. Worry about tomorrow tomorrow."

"Tomorrow will have a tomorrow, if all is well, so I shall." She looked ahead, eyes on the woods and mountains all around them.

"That is not what I meant and you know it." She again urged her horse farther ahead. "Stop worrying about winter that comes and summer that is here."

"I tell you summer is over." She eyed her sister. "Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?" She asked innocently. "And summer is not over until the last leaf falls." She was adamant that summer was not ending.

"The last leaf fall just before the beginning of winter. Do you have no fall? And what is you trying to stay a piece ahead of me."

"Well, winter does not begin with the first leaf fading, and I have no idea what you are talking about," she answered, being obstinate.

She sighed deeply. "Very well," Esterasúle said calmly before kicking her horse into a run, leaning close to its body. Mirima laughed and took off after her.

The sisters raced for quite a distance, not paying attention to how far they were going. Esterasúle was determined to stay ahead of her sister. However, when she felt the atmosphere grow cold and thick, she pulled her horse to a stop. Something did not feel right. She looked to the sky where clouds covered the sun. "Rima..." She looked to her sister. They had not planned to go so far and were unarmed, a fact Esterasúle cursed.

Mirima slowed her mount as well, feeling the change in atmosphere. "We should turn back." Her horse, like her sister's, pranced unhappily.

"Go!" Esterasúle called to her sister, spurring her own horse toward home. The horse reared up as Orc came out from all around them. They were surrounded. She cursed her stupidity for having come so far and being unarmed.

Mirima looked to her sister. "Now what?" She could not help but be frightened. Her sister felt the same.

"We try to break through." She patted her horse's neck before charging at some of the Orcs. She downed a couple but could not break through. She looked around frantically for an escape.

Mirima tried as well, making it through. However, she turned when she noticed her sister was not beside her. She charged back toward the Orcs. "No! Go! I'll be behind you!" Her sister cried to her. If she could not get free, she at least wanted her sister to get away.

"Not leaving you." Mirima kicked at the Orc that grabbed her leg. She was not leaving her sister behind.

"You must," she got out before an arrow knocked her from her horse. She struggled to stand, her legs failing her. She felt her blood run cold as she saw the Uruk-hai walk from the woods, sword drawn. He was heading straight for her. She made a pained face as he grabbed the back of her neck and lifted her up. "Run, Mirima!"

"Alone and unarmed... I thought Elves were smarter than that." The Uruk said coldly to Esterasúle before looking to the Orcs. "Grab her as well." He motioned toward Mirima with his free hand.

"No!" Esterasúle kicked at him, fighting to free herself and protect her sister. Mirima, seeing her sister shot, turned her horse as though to escape but instead charged forward once more. She had to reach her sister. The Uruk held Esterasúle with an evil grin. "You must run! You cannot save me!" She pleaded with her sister before going limp in her captor's grasp, not fighting any longer.

"NO!" Mirima screamed, trying harder to reach her sister. She failed to notice the arrow speeding toward her until it landed in her chest, beside her heart. She fell off her horse like a sack of grain, completely limp.

"No!" Esterasúle reached out though she could not get away. She again fell limp not giving her captor the benefit of hearing her sob, but her heart was in shards.

"I said to bring her along, not kill her." The Uruk was irate. "I want the Orc that shot that arrow, now." The Orcs looked at one another, starting to fight over who had done it. Their words turned into brawling, none going to take the blame. "Silence!" They all froze but continued to eye one another. "Which one was it?" They all stepped back from one, who had actually not fired the shot but was the most disliked. He quickly marched over and struck him down.

The entire time he did not let loose his grip on Esterasúle's neck. She had closed her eyes, waiting for her fate. The Uruk surveyed the two bodies. "Leave them to rot. Get back to camp." They all quickly made for camp, not wanting to be the next to die.

He followed them after tying her hands and legs, tossing her over his shoulder. She cringed as her side hits his shoulder. Her blood soaked into her clothes, running onto his armor and skin. However, she makes no sound, praying that Mandos took her sister quick, with no pain.

Soon, they were back to the Orc camp, where he not so gently threw her to the ground. She laid there, not fighting but not making things easy either. A scream escaped her lips as he quickly reached down and ripped the arrow from her body. He then put herbs on her wound, binding it.

The Orc watching wondered why he did not just kill her, why he had wanted them both alive. What was he going to do with her? She, too, was shocked. Her eyes confused as she looked at him. Thoughts of what he may intend that needed her healthy ran through her head.

He grunted down at her then looked at the Orcs. "She is not to be touched. The master has ordered. Anyone who sees fit to disobey that order, will feed his comrades." The Orcs shuffled a bit farther away. None of them were ready to fight him over it, yet. He picked Esterasúle up by the neck once more and took her to his tent. He dropped her inside, upset that he had to protect her until he could get her back to his master for experimentation.

She did not fight, laying on the floor where she landed and making no sound or movement.


	2. Chapter 2

Mirima awoke slowly. Her ears picked up noise long before she truly came back into her conscious mind. She fought to stay in the blackness where the pain could not reach her. Then she remembered why she felt pain. Her eyes slowly opened and she looked around. She groaned as the pain radiated through her, centered at her chest.

Memories rushed through her mind. Her sister racing with her, Orcs surrounding them, her sister being shot, and then sudden pain in her chest that knocked her from her horse. "Tera," she whispered. Her sister needed her, but there was nothing she could do in her condition.

Her horse, which was standing nearby, moved closer to her. At first, he had tried to wake her, but when he could not, he began to prance near her. Hearing her awake, he moved closer and nudging her. She cried out in pain from the contact. He tried another approach, pulling on her arm.

Mirima gritted her teeth, reaching up and breaking off the arrow shaft so she would be less likely to hit it on anything. She could neither shove it through nor pull it out. One would likely cause damage to her spine, and both would make her bleed to death quickly. She had to go home before she could find Esterasúle.

She motioned her horse to lady down beside her. He obediently did as instructed. Every motion caused pain to surge through her, but she knew she had to get home. She slowly pulled herself up onto his back. Tears streaked down her face, not just from the pain but also for her sister. "Take me home," she told her mount. He stood and did so.

At the borders of Imladris, Liníta and her unit patrolled. She knew the sisters were out for a ride. She had given them leave herself to go out alone. For one, she saw no reason for them to be unable to go if they stayed close. On a second note, if they were out riding, Mirima was not causing trouble for some one with or without the help of Elrond's sons.

When she saw Esterasúle's horse come running toward them, not only without his rider but without Mirima's horse, she knew something was wrong. She looked to the closest Elf. "Get the captain."

The guard nodded and quickly rode off to get him. Glorfindel did not take long to come. He knew Liníta would only send for him if she thought she must. "Liníta, what is going on?"

Liníta looked at him with a grim expression. "Esterasúle's horse has returned without his rider. He is in a state of fright and anxiousness, Captain." She motioned to the horse being soothed by two guards.

He nodded. For the horse to be acting in such a manner did not bode well for his rider. He wondered where Esterasúle, Mirima, and her horse were and what had befallen the sisters. "Send out a few guards to scout for her and her sister."

Liníta bowed and returned to her unit. She selected four of her guards and sent them to find the girls. The four guards quickly rode out. Two stuck to the main trail while the other two searched for signs of the sisters elsewhere. The two on the trail soon spotted Mirima, rushing to her side. She was unconscious, oblivious to having been found. They quickly headed back to Imladris with her.

Mirima started to come around as they neared the border. She had been in and out many times since getting on her horse. She was at a loss for how much time had passed. The only thing she knew each time she woke was pain and the need to find her sister. The thought of her sister made her jerk fully awake. "Tera..."

"Calm yourself," Tyáro soothed her. "You are nearly home."

"We have to find her. She's still alive." Mirima did not care about herself or being home, not with her sister in the hands of Orcs.

"There are scouts out," he again tried to sooth her. He knew he was going to have a rough time.

"How many?" She was having difficulty speaking. Her voice was a whisper.

Liníta and Glorfindel shared a glance as they saw the two returning with Mirima. "The Valar help the other one," Liníta said softly for both of them.

Tyáro sighed internally. "Enough. Rest."

Mirima, fighting to stay awake, demanded, "No, how many scouts?"

He knew the truth would not appease her. "The border patrol."

Something told Mirima he was lying, or perhaps it was her distrust. "You lie." She gave him the best glare she could muster. With the pain, it contorted her face. "How many?"

Tyáro knew he would have to be honest. "Two. We had to return with you." He did not mean for it to sound like she was at fault, and luckily she made no comment about taking it that way.

"Not enough. We have to go back." Now that she was not alone, she felt she had to help her sister. She struggled to sit up in the saddle to take control of her horse.

"You cannot," Tyáro argued. She was in no condition to go anywhere but the Healing House. He was happy to see Liníta and Glorfindel approaching.

"Get this thing out of me and I can," she bit out. Esterasúle was her sister. She needed her. Mirima did not trust these Elves to find her and care for her right.

"You will not," Glorfindel told her. The girl had to be crazy to think they would allow her to further harm herself. She needed healed.

"I am a free person. I can and will. You cannot stop me." Esterasúle needed her. The were not going to stand in her way.

Foolish, stupid child, Liníta thought. She looked to Hérion. "Get her quickly to the Healing House. There could have been poison on that arrow." She eyed the massive wooden shaft. She doubted there was poison as awake and lucid as Mirima was, but they could not take chances.

Hérion did as commanded. He pulled Mirima from her mount, ignoring her sounds of pain. He was surprised she put up no fight. The pain she felt must have increased drastically from the movement. He knew, however, that he had to hurry. He did not have time to be slow and gentle. The girl needed healed soon or she would not make it.

Liníta looked into the distance. "We must have missed a band of Orc."

"You may be correct." Glorfindel watched her. She was blaming herself. He wanted to tell her it was not her fault, but she would deny any knowledge of what he was talking about.

"Shall we take a unit and find them?" She returned her eyes to him. The question was an obvious one, but she needed his leave to act. His nod was answer enough. She turned to another guard. "Go see what answers can be gained from Mirima when she is able."

As Arthion went to his task, Tyáro spoke up, "She says her sister lives."

"For how long? We must make haste." Her horse pranced, ready to go, but she waited for Glorfindel's lead.

"We must find her before..." Glorfindel trailed off. They were all well aware of what happened to an Elf violated by an Orc. Esterasúle would be better off dead then suffer that fate.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the healers saw the location of the wound, they sent for Elrond. Only he had the skill to extract the arrow shaft without causing more damage. They also needed him due to the... attitude of the patient. Though they tried, Mirima would not calm enough for them to help her. Only the head healer, under Elrond, stayed with her as they awaited the lord.

"Get this out of me. I must find my sister," Mirima demanded yet again. She had said the same thing over and over, in addition to her proclamations that she would do as she pleased. Her words were becoming routine.

"The guards will find her," the healer soothed, brushing back Mirima's hair. She needed to relax as best she could or risk worsening the wound. If she kept up, they would have to give her something so they could help her.

"I will find her. She is my blood." Mirima had always felt she and her sister were not treated the same as other Elves. She attributed that feeling to being only half Elven. She now feared they would not give their all to find Esterasúle just because she was a Half-Elf.

She and the healer both looked to the door as Elrohir came rushing in. He made straight to Mirima's side. "What has happened?" He paled slightly as his gaze fell on the wound.

"Orc. They've taken Tera." She looked him dead in the eye, pleading with him. "Get it out of me, El."

"He looked over the wound and sadly shook his head. "It is beyond my abilities. Adar will have to see to this." He looked to the healer.

"He is on his way," she answered his gaze.

"Dammit, I'll pull it out myself." She reached for the arrow, gritting her teeth. She had to get out of there and find her sister, no matter how she came about doing it.

Elrohir grabbed her hands. He held them down to her sides so she could not touch the shaft or harm the wound in any other way. "You can't," he told her matter-of-factly. He knew she knew doing so would stop any chance of her finding her sister. She just had to be reminded.

"I have to find Tera," she argued feebly. She knew trying to pull the arrow out would likely kill her if she did it herself.

"The guards will do it. I promise."

"She was injured as well. Arrow to her side." She kept seeing her sister fall over and over in her mind. The massive Uruk-hai pulled at her sister before everything went black.

"They will find her," he assured again. She had to accept the guard would find Esterasúle so she could heal.

Elladan came crashing in about then, looking around wildly. "What's going on?" His eyes settled on Mirima. He rushed over to her. "Oh, Rima." He surveyed the wound. "How far did you go?"

"Not sure. We were racing and not paying attention." Neither twin was surprised. Mirima had a way of getting to her sister. Any comment they had was cut short by their father's entrance.

Elrond walked in calmly, unlike his sons. He walked over to Mirima and looked over the arrow with a frown." Elladan, out," he said, glancing at his oldest son.

"Must I?" His eyes settled on Mirima. He did not want to leave her unless he absolutely had to.

"Yes, we don't need you in the way. We'll make sure she is well."

Elladan looked around the room. His twin held Mirima's arms down to the bed. He was not going to give her a chance to harm herself. Nearby, the healer was setting things up Elrond could need to extract the arrow shaft and head. He relented and allowed his father to usher him out.

Elrond turned back to Mirima once Elladan was out of the room. He felt pride as watched how Elrohir handled her. Elrohir, not paying attention to anyone but Mirima, did not notice his father's scrutiny. He smiled down at her, trying to show everything would be alright. "You must relax," he told her as Elrond started to cut her shirt off. "You will be alright." Of course, she only tensed more at being half naked. "Relax, Rima," Elrohir tried to sooth her again.

"Young lady, I am a father. I have seen a woman's body before," Elrond informed her matter-of-factly. Elrohir chuckled. He refrained from mentioning one did not need a female to have a child when one is an Elf.

"You try relaxing when someone is undressing you." Her eyes fell on Elrohir, who was still chuckling.

"You are in the healing house. Nothing you have hasn't been seen here before."

"You'll never respect me now," she told Elrohir, much to Elrond's amusement. The older Elf chuckled himself at her statement.

"I did before?" Elrohir asked jokingly.

"Yes," she answered before gasping. The salve Elrond put on the wound startled her. Not only was it cold, but it numbed the area, too.

"Perhaps I'll respect you more for living through this." Elrohir smiled at her.

She nodded, clenching her teeth as Elrond started to pull the arrow from her chest. Though the area was suppose to be completely numb, deep down she could feel something. "Stop!" She gasped out.

Elrond frowned and looked at her face. "It has to come out."

"I can feel it... I think a piece has broken off."

"You couldn't have felt that. The salve numbs the area." He considered it was possible the salve had not gotten deep enough.

"Ada?" Elrohir questioned, worried for his young friend.

"I don't care what the salve is supposed to do! I felt it break!" Mirima exclaimed.

Elrond nodded. "I'll have to get the main piece out before I can remove the shard." He began removing the arrow again. The healer moved closer in case they needed to open the wound farther.

Once the main piece of the arrow was out, Elrond handed it to Elrohir for inspection. The wound began to bleed, but Elrond knew it should have bled more. Elrohir showed him where the piece of the shaft was missing. "It is not poisoned," he also pointed out. "That is odd."

"It is indeed." Elrond grabbed a too, something like pliers, and used them to pull the extra piece out of the wound. Once the piece was removed, the wound really began to bleed. He and Elrohir put their hands to the wound to stop the blood and start the healing.

After a few minutes, the bleeding stopped. Elrond then placed a poultice on the wound to stop any infection. "Young lady, you will stay in bed until I deem you are well enough to be up and about."

"I have to find Tera." She moved to get up, grabbing a sheet to cover her upper half. Elrohir pushed her back down gently. She looked up at him. "El, you no better than to get in my way."

"I have to."

"And you should know better than to go against my order." Elrond was not amused. "I will have you attached to this bed if need be." He eyed her pointedly.

Before anyone could say anything further, Mirima's father rushed into the room. He still wore his blacksmith apron, and his dark brown hair was pulled back from his smooth featured face. His brown eyes were wide and alarmed. He rushed to her side. "Mirima!" He looked her over in horror.

"Ada, I'm fine. We need to find Tera." Surely he would understand.

"The guard is out looking," he assured her. He sat beside her and took her hand.

"Most of those guards couldn't find their posterior with both hands and a map." She gave her father a pointed look. Esterasúle needed her.

"Glorfindel is out there, and Elladan has gone to join them as well," he told her. Elrond raised a brow at her. Elrohir, use to her, ignored her comment.

"And I should join them also." Again, she attempted to get up.

"You will not." Her father set his foot down, so to speak.

Elrond had other ideas. "Very well. If you wish to do so, I request you drink this to get your strength back fast." Elrond went about fixing her a potion.

"If I drink this, you'll let me go?" She eyed him. She was not sure if she should trust him.

"Yes." He handed over the potion.

Mirima immediately drank down the liquid. She instantly felt the effects. "Son of an Orc." She looked at Elrond angrily as she fell into a sleep.

His eyebrow shot up. He did not like being referred to in such a manner. "Ignore her, Ada," Elrohir advised as he started for the door.

"I think it is most inappropriate for a young woman to speak so, and to her healer of all people." He followed his son.

"Not to mention her lord." Elrohir rolled his eyes. "She's just like that. Glad she hasn't met Erestor."

"I have a feeling another great war would occur."

"And Imladris would fall." Elrohir smiled. "I must go help."

Elrond nodded. "Be careful. Tell your brother as well." He watched his son nod and run off toward the stables.


	4. Chapter 4

AN:I use The Encyclopedia of Arda regularly. We aren't saying that they would spend less time on looking for a half-Elven. We met merely that Mirima feels that way. Later in the story, the same thing is brought up, by Erestor I believe. I don't quite recall. Sorry for the confusion this may have presented. Savejonny, we truly thank you for the review. It means bunches. Your words go straight to my heart, and I am sure they do for Lioness, too. We will endeavor to do the line thing. I'll even go back and fix the previous chapters, at some point. Thanks!

-

After a few days of traveling by day through dense forest and by river, the Orcs had put many miles between themselves and Imladris. The had not gone as far as they could have traveling at night only, but the Uruk-hai demanded they move by day. They were all drenched from the constant rain that started the morning after taking Esterasúle. They were not in the best of moods.

She was carried during travel and left in the corner of the Uruk's hut-like tent during camp. She sat huddled up in that corner as the Uruk entered and threw a bowl of stew down for her. He did not give her a spoon. "Eat," he demanded. He was tired of her just sitting there, and he was tired of carting her around. She did not act as he felt an elf should.

Esterasúle looked at the stew but made no move to eat it. She knew, from bits of conversations she heard, that she was needed alive. She was not going to make it easy on them. She had no reason to live. So, she had no reason to eat. The stew sat before her untouched.

He stalked over to her and roughly grabbed her nose. He was sick of her, period. She jerked back, angling her head so she could bite into his palm. He grunted in pain but did not let go. She glared up at him. He glared back. "You are trying my patience. You will eat if I have to force it down you."

"Try," she hissed at him. Her first word since being carted from the battle field. She was going to either kill herself or make them kill her no matter what she had to do to get the results she wanted.

He forced open her mouth and put the bowl to her lips. She spit out more than she swallowed. They both ended up wearing remnants of the stew. He growled displeased. "If you do not eat, I will let them have their way with you." He expected that to work. Elves faded when violated, especially by Orcs.

She looked him in the eye, her own very hard. "I'm dead either way." She was daring him to follow through with his threat.

He eyed her. "You would be violated again and again rather than eat a bowl of stew?" He wondered if all Elves were so crazy. He could not understand why she did not just eat the stew and be done with it.

"I want nothing you would give to me." Though proud, she wanted to die and be done. Him counting on her to be humiliated by being taken by so many Orcs backfired. She glared at him defiantly.

"You will eat one way or another." He moved away from her so he would not hit her. He would not damage his master's goods unless he had to.

She could see he was having trouble controlling himself. "You are weak to be so easily baited into violence." She admitted to herself, that jibe could go both ways. He would either not react to show he was not weak, or he would react as she wanted and fight back. The result was not the one she wanted.

He did not reply to her jibe. He simply growled as he sat down to his own food, eating heartily before her. She frowned, looking down at the smelly stew she wore. She also had a nasty after taste from the vile stuff. She wondered how he could so readily eat the concoction. Then, she reasoned it was because he was an Orc.

Sitting in 'her' corner, she casually looked at her surroundings. She searched for any means of escape or a way to kill herself. Killing herself outright was a last resort, but she felt she may have to do it to keep herself from being used for something likely evil. Though, she was uncertain if she owed anyone besides herself, her family, and the Valar enough to prevent them using her.

From where he sat, eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, the Uruk noticed her surveying her surroundings. He would be happy to have her off his hands, and was glad the second had been killed. However, he had to see her to his master and could not allow her to run and likely be killed for doing so by the Orcs. "Do not think it," he advised, not turning to face her.

"You know not what I think, Uvanimo," she spat. The Quenya term was lost on him, she knew, but to her he was a monster. She had no doubts he would know it was an insult.

"You wish to escape. If you try, even I won't be able to keep you safe." She was right. He did know it as an insult but ignored it.

She wrinkled her nose slightly at his audacity. He was quite confident and egotistical. "I wish to kill myself and be done with it." Slowly, she stood, glaring at him. Up until then, she had made no movement on her own. He always had to carry her. He was glad to see he would not now. If she could stand and mouth off, she could walk.

"I'm afraid that isn't an option for you." He would not allow her to. She was needed by his master and would be delivered alive and well.

"You will not protect me from the Orcs long enough. The will grow tired of having me around." Surely he was not fool enough to think he could handle them all, alone.

"I am in charge. They will not touch you." Had he been anyone else, she would have been moved by that declaration. "They know what will happen." His voice was threatening.

"They are not smart but bright enough. Don't be stupid yourself and think they will not gang up on you. All Orc are the same. Hideous creatures that need wiped from Arda." She glared at him, ignoring whatever it was she saw pass through his eye. She threw out a final jab. "No matter they be lowly or the 'great' Uruk-hai."

He looked at her fully. "Your mouth will be your end." Could she not shut up?

"You do not frighten me. I am above you and your kind," she retorted with a superior air.

He snorted at her. She was a piece of work. Did she not grasp the position she was in? Did she seek death that much, that quickly? "Think what you wish. I care not." Only, her constant diatribe was starting to hit home.

"At least Elves and Men do not need a master." 'Most Men,' she added to herself. "We have our own minds, our own will. Orcs, Uruk are broken, weak."

"Enough!" He had listened to her for more than long enough. He knew he had when her words started making sense, he started having doubts about himself. "You will sit and be silent!"

"I will not!" She did not back down as he stood and loomed over her.

The Uruk grabbed her throat. He glared into her face, trying to be as intimidating as possible. "You will," he snarled at her.

"Not, she added defiantly, her voice cracking as it was forced out. He was starting to act how she wanted. She only needed to push him a little more. She glared at him with hard, fiery eyes, daring him to do something, anything.

"If that is your wish." He threw her to the ground. Then, he found some rope, binding her hands and feet. He also stuffed a cloth in her mouth, tying it securely around her head. She glared at him, fighting him, landing a few good but uneffective blows. He smirked at once she was bound. She kicked out at him with her bound legs, aiming for his ankles

"I would rest if I were you. There is a long road ahead." She had no intention of walking anywhere, and he had no intention of carrying her. She kicked at him again. He snorted and returned to his own devices, leaving her lying there.


	5. Chapter 5

A few hours later, the Uruk had the camp packed up and ready to move. He untied Esterasúle's feet, keeping her hands bound. A rope trailed from his hands to her bound wrists in form of a leash. "You will walk," he informed her as he stood her up.

She stood firm, not making any move to do as he wished. He pulled on the rope in his hand roughly. She was jerked toward him but did not move her feet to catch herself, letting herself fall before obeying his word. If he wanted her to move so badly, he could move her himself. She was not going to make this easy on him, quite the opposite.

He let her fall on her face, hoping doing so would teach her a lesson for her insolence. He watched as she lay there making no move to stand. She was being overly difficult in hopes he would be angered into doing something he would not. She was being delivered to his master alive and whole. When she made no move to attempt to get up after several moments -- and she had no intention of doing so, planning to lay there until the end of time if she had to -- he reached down and hauled her up by her neck, treating her like some disobedient pet or better yet vermin.

Once he had her back on her feet he shoved her forward again but did not allow her to fall as he had before. The entire time they traveled, she kept her feet dug in. She made every bit of progress a hard earned battle, but he did not give in and carry her. He was tired of carting her around even if the burden was little for him, and he dare not let the others to it. They would go to far, their self-control little to none. He would see to her walking if it took them a year to make it back to his master.

Finally, he had enough for one day and called a halt to their progression. He tossed her down near the fire the others built, roughly, before heating some stew. The same stew he had tried to feed her hours before the day's trek began. As it heated, he unbound her wrists, knowing that she could not easily escape from his side let alone passed all the Orcs.

She reached up with her now free hands and removed the gag he had placed in her mouth nearly a full day before. She then took the stew he offered, appearing all the world to be getting ready to eat by going so far as to lift it to her lips. In this way, he put his guard down, thinking she had finally succumbed to hunger. However, just before the vile concoction violated her mouth, she threw the bowl and all at his head.

The action finally made him lose what patience he had left for her. He could no longer hold in his anger, slapping her across the face, hard. "Fine. I'll remember not to feed you tonight."

She licked the blood from her busted lip with a look akin to satisfaction. "Good."

He grunted and finished his meal then stood. He pulled one of the Orc to the side and gave him instructions. He then returned to the fire as the Orcs ate then packed up and left. he would deal with the Elf bitch on his own. Besides, her words were nagging at him. He could not trust them. Granted, they would likely kill one another for the supremacy he had bestowed to the one, but that chaos was better off ahead of him. Now that he had an Elf, he did not need them.

"Don't want them to see me get the best of you?" She asked as the Orc began to leave. "Show them how it's done?" Her voice was smug, if not slightly condescending.

She was right, partly. He had no intention of losing control to one of the others, which he could not if they were not there. He also had no intention of dying to protect her. Some of the Orc had been throwing more heated gazes toward her.

Esterasúle watched the Orc leave, unhappy they were. She was losing a means to a quick death. "A weak leader sends his men away because he distrusts them," she commented casually. "You keep proving just how weak you are."

He did not look at her." "You are angry no one will be able to kill you now." He knew her game.

She gave him a sly smirk. "Not everyone is gone. You are not strong enough to control yourself forever."

"No," he agreed, to her surprise. "Just long enough to see you to the master."

"Again with the master." She rolled her eyes. Why were they all the same? Master this. Master that. Could they not think for themselves! "Why do you bow before him?"

He thought a moment. "That is none of your concern." Truth was, he had no answer. He did so because he knew nothing else. Was that reason enough? Could he say it was because he did not want to die, and to not bow would be certain death?

"If we are to travel together," if you would really call it traveling together, "we can at least make an attempt to do so in a less primitive fashion. I simply wished to make small talk." She looked at him curiously. "You can make conversation, I presume. You seem smarter than any Orc I've encountered before. Not that that is saying much."

"Why can you not return to your silence?" He growled. She was beginning to annoy him. Perhaps he should have just left her alone and carted her to his master after all.

"I do not wish to. I make my own mind." Talking obviously pissed him off, or at least annoyed him greatly. If she did enough of it, he could lose control as he had when he struck her.

"Maybe if I took you myself, you would be quiet." He had no intentions of doing so, but thought the threat may work to at least quiet her, if only for a short while.

"I highly doubt it. One has no control over the other in any way." He could take her and in so doing ruin her, sentence her to the death that was already coming. Him doing so, however, would not save his ears. She would continue to annoy him in hopes of making that death come faster.

"At least your screams would sound better than you babbling." Anything would be better than that.

"I would not scream," she retorted matter-of-factly. "I doubt you are capable of making me do so." She was egging him on. She did not want the death of being raped, but anything was better than giving him and his master what they wanted. Especially after the death of her sister.

He decided to play her game, see if he could upset her. "You would moan? Like a common whore?"

"I would make no sound. You would have no affect on me ill or otherwise. If you're even male enough to have your way with anything." The last was snide, bitey.

"So, you would be silent then." He mused. He had gotten what he wanted.

She answered with the first thing she thought of, realizing she had just been circled by her own words, she fought for something to get herself out of the mess if possible. She needed to get him off the subject of rape and mad enough to kill her outright. "If I found no cause to say anything. Then again, I could always critique." Yeah, that was the dumbest thing she could have said. He snorted in answer. "You think I would not?" Her voice was defiant. Why did she keep digging herself in? Was her need for death that great?

"You would tell me how to rape you properly?" He had to force himself not to grin at the thought. She was like no Elf he ever heard tell of. She had guts, no sense, but guts.

"If I must." She was hating him playing her game and beating her.

The conversation having gone too far in the direction it was headed, he changed tactics to try and shut her up. "As good as it would feel having you helpless under me, feeling you hot and tight around me, I think I'll pass." Though, the more she talked and baited, the harder it was for him to stick to his word, his resolve.

"Your loss, Tutas," she said boldly. Most Elves dared not speak the black speech, let alone so casually as she did.

"I am no coward." He eyed her. He was beginning to think she was faulty, insane.

"Nar?" If she could not bait him in the common tongue with satisfying results, she would try in his own.

"You are a foolish child."

"I am no child." She could have smacked herself for saying that. And why did she not protest she was not a fool?

"How old then?" He knew she could not have been that old.

"I see that as none of your concern." She kicked herself mentally. She was coming up with the best answers, proving to him on some level that she was a child.

"You are but a child then." His voice and face were smug.

"I am a century." Though, in truth, she lacked a couple years. "Older than you, I wager."

"In years you may be, but in maturity I out age you."

"You wish, Nar Thos." Again she baited him, hiding a small smirk. She was finding herself liking their banter. At least it gave her something to do.

He looked at her a moment then grabbed her hand, placing it on his genitals. "As you can feel, that little name holds no meaning for me." He then let go of her hand.

She stuck her nose in the air, pulling her hand back. "Then it must be dysfunctional or your threats would not be empty." She called him on the fact he was not going to actually rape her.

"I think you want me to take you. I bet you've never had a male before and want to know what it's like." He did not expect the answer he received.

"Well, I am to die. Should I die not knowing it?" Her eyes locked on to his one.

"If that is you last wish." He moved toward her. He was going to see just how far she would let this game go.

Esterasúle made no move to get away from him as he crouched before her, pushing her back on the ground. He ran his hands over the front of her before massaging her breasts through her tunic. She could not help as her breath picked up. She was uncertain what to do. He smirked down at her before sliding his hand under her shirt to feel her bare skin, going to his knees. He placed on between her legs, pressing it up against her. She gasped softly and cursed herself for making a noise as she searched for something to say. Her mind raced for anything, hoping for something scathing.

"Where's my critique?" He asked as he massaged her nipples a bit harder.

She had forgotten she had said she would do so, saying whatever came to mind. "You move awful slow for this being about your pleasure and not mine. I imagine a rape to be much more violent." _Like he's raping you,_ she told herself. She also wondered why in the Valar she was not fighting him off. She really did not want to die by violation, then again, as she had pointed out to herself, he was not really violating her.

He reached for the knife at the fire side and ran it up her tunic, cutting the material open. Then, putting the knife to the side, he pulled the fabric apart to expose her chest. He leaned in to lick at her nipple as she said, "A knife?" She gasped as his tongue met her breast but did not lose herself to the game. "No ripping?" Her voice was a bit breathless. He made no response as he moved his hand to her other breast, thumbing the nipple as he sucked the one he was licking into his mouth. "You are too gentle." Her voice gave away that she was not complaining, quite the opposite to a degree.

He began to move his knee against the growing heat between her legs, switching his mouth to her other nipple. She gasped again, breath picking up to almost a pant. Her mind reeled at how gentle he was. Orcs, Uruks were not suppose to be capable of gentleness in any fashion. The took what they wanted and to hell with everyone else. His actions confused her.

Finally, he decided he had gotten what he wanted, or what he had set out to do. He stopped his actions and stood, going back to sitting where he had before. He silently got himself another bowl of stew. She sat up, not bothering to attempt to close her sliced shirt. Her mind was lost in thought. "Silence finally," he snorted. But the silence left him to thought, and his thoughts trailed to her body, how her flesh had tasted on his tongue, felt under his hands, the heat against his leg. He had great difficulty in controlling himself from finishing what he had begun.

For a long time she said nothing, nearly two hours passing before she finally looks at him. "I do not understand." Her voice was honest, having lost the edge of the game. He looked back at her silently, not certain what she meant and also not wanting to get her started again. "I mean, even in trying to fool me you should not have been gentle. You're, well, evil to be simple. It goes against everything I was every taught." Her eyes strayed to the distance. After a moment she snorted and shook her head. "Figures those dull, simple fools would be wrong. Tell me," she looked back at him, "what will happen once your master has me?"

"You will be used to advance my race." He was uncertain how to take this... melancholy version of her.

She nodded. "Oddly, I feel like that would give me purpose. Elves have no purpose but to exist. We seclude ourselves from others for the most part and never change. The life of an Elf is boring and pointless." She sighed and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them. Perhaps it was the mortal influence in her that made her feel that way. She spoke her thoughts. "Perhaps I should have chose mortality but I could not leave my father or my sister." He sat silently, listening. His mind again traveling to how he had shut her up the first time. Again he had to fight from losing his control and taking her. She went on oblivious to how he was feeling. "You don't know family, do you? Never had that small amount of joy. Do you even feel you and other such emotions?" Her voice was not as it had been before. She sounded genuinely interested, almost sad for him if he did not.

He growled. The topic had just went somewhere he was not about to go. "Must you speak? I was enjoying the silence."

"Sorry." She quieted, looking off into the distance.

He got up and made her a bowl of stew. He could not help but miss the way she had been earlier, the fiery Elf bitch. Now, she was almost broken. He had not done it by raping her, ruining her, but by being gentle. The whole thing was a puzzle to him. He handed her the stew. "Eat." She took it and slowly did so, to his amazement. He was happy to have the obedience, it would make travel easier, but still... Something just felt wrong. He watched as she finished her stew then curled into a ball on the ground. She was going to sleep for the first time since he had taken her.

He silently watched as she had nightmares, happy for the peace. In her mind, she saw Mirima being shot down. He listened as she spoke softly in Sindarin, small pieces of something she must have been saying in her dreams. Her words were a prayer for the departed, asking Mandos take good care of her sister. After allowing her a few hours of sleep, he woke her. "We must head out."

Silently she nodded and stood. She felt cold as she did and shivered, frowning. Climate should not have affected her. She looked to the sky and her surroundings for anything that could have caused the cold. She wrapped her arms around herself. The cause was nothing that could be seen. She was fading. They walked in silence for a while before she commented, "Going to snow early this year. The fall winds blow. The season will pass quickly."

He looked over at her. He had noticed her acting as though she was cold. He took his water skin and mixed some herbs into it. "Drink this." He handed it over to her. The mixture was meant to warm her.

Esterasúle eyed the waterskin then drank from it. Her face screwed up. "Don't you have taste buds?"

"The taste does not matter as long as it gives sustenance."

"You are correct," she agreed. Between the vile stew and the putrid mixture, however, she was not convinced that he did have taste buds.

"You are warmer now." He looked her over. The mixture should have started working the moment she swallowed it.

She shook her head. "Not really." She did feel her outer portions growing warmer but the deep cold could not be treated, not by herbs alone. "I fear this cold is not from the climate."

"You do not mean?" He looked her over once more. He had noticed a change in her but had hoped it was not that.

She nodded. "What difference does it make? I am not fading fast enough for me to be gone before we reach your master."

"I am to bring a healthy Elf." He continued to look her over as if he could find some key to fixing this problem.

"There is nothing you can do."

"You are useless then," he growled. She said nothing, walking on. He reached out and stopped her "There is nothing?" He looked her in the eyes. If there was something, he had to do it.

"I've lost my life, my sister is dead... What could there be? I have nothing. No reason to live." Her voice was soft.

"You are of no use to me or my master and will simply slow me down." He walked away from her, in a different direction than the one they had be going or had came from.

She watched him, not following. "I've never been of use to anyone." She sighed and sad down with a plop. All her life had ever been was cooking, cleaning, and learning. She took care of her father and sister in place of her mother. In ways, she looked at Mirima as a daughter as much as sister and her father as a sort of brother. She looked around herself noticing how silent the woods were because of the Uruk's presence.

He stopped as her words reached him. He turned to her and lifted her from the ground, not certain why exactly. Something compelled him to do this one thing for her. He started walking back toward Imladris.

She eyed him in shock. "What are you doing?" He walked on silently, not answering. "What is your name?" Her voice was soft. He just kept amazing her.

"Bubhoshbujar."

She thought that over. "I like Turroquen. It means 'master knight'."

"It makes little difference." He was dead no matter what he was called.

"Why are you doing this?" She could not fathom a reason for an Uruk to help and Elf, especially after she was such a pain in the ass.

"It does not matter." He kept walking forward, not looking down at her.

"You would give your life for mine?" She looked up at him, dropping her legs to the ground and stopping his progression.

"The moment you began to fade, my life was forfeit," he answered simply.

"You do not have to die." She did not want him to, not after seeing the gentleness within him.

"There si no room for failure and it is not rewarded. If I were to bring you back ill there would be consequences." He kept walking, pushing her along with him.

She again stopped him, putting a hand to his cheek. "You aren't like them. They would have let me to die, not forced me home. They would have found a replacement. The light of the Valar has touched you." Her eyes were sad. "It saddens me to think you would die because of me."

"Do not be childish. They will have to find me before they kill me. I have no intention of offering myself as a sacrifice."

"But they will and you will die. I'm dead no matter what. I could help you get farther west where they do not have a firm hold." She did not want him to die. She also felt the need, the desire to stay with him.

"No." He pushed her again.

"Why not?"

"It does not matter."

"Yes it does!" How could he say life, his or anyone's, did not matter?

"You will move." He was going to get her home.

She sighed and began doing so. Another piece of her began to grieve. "You make my death come faster." Her voice was very soft, more to herself than to him.

"Would it help if I were cruel?" She seemed fixated on him being gentle and that meaning so much.

"It is too late for that." Her arms were wrapped tight about herself. She had seen the light in him. She had seen too deeply for him to start being mean and it work to make her hate him, not care that he was to die.

He stopped her. "Since we are both dead." He bent down and kissed her, a true kiss. She gasped not aware that an Uruk would know how to kiss. She did not fight him off but her eyes were wide, body stiffening at first before relaxing.

Bubhoshbujar deepened the kiss, hands running over her already exposed torso. She whimpered softly, moving closer to him. He pushed the fabric from her body, feasting his eyes on her. She put her hands to his chest as she pulled back for air. He moved his kisses from her lips to her jaw then around to her ear, sucking on it lightly. Her breath came quicker as she put her body against his. Her hands moved to his shoulders, holding on for support.

He pulled her to the ground, moving his lips lower on her body. Tasting her flesh, the flavor driving him wild. She moaned softly, hands staying on his shoulders, sliding down his arms. He finally got to her pants, undoing the lacings before pulling them down over her hips. She watched him, eyes heated with lust. He looked back. "No critique?" He asked as he licked at her naval.

She shook her head. "Don't have anything to compare it to." She moaned and shivered at his touches.

"You seemed very vocal earlier." He began to stroke at her with his fingers, grazing her bundle of nerves.

"Then it was a game." She forced out through the moans and pleasure building in her. He kissed her as he slipped first one then two fingers inside of her tight entrance. She arched off the ground as his thumb rubbed her nub. He stretched her, making her gasp and moan. She moved against her fingers as they probed her, mewling beneath him.

After several moments of stretching her, he removed his own minimal clothing and spread her legs wider, preparing to enter her. She watches, eyes lidded, panting. "Are you ready?" He had stretched her as far as he could. She licked her lips, mouth gone dry by the sight of him. She nodded. He kissed her, probing her mouth with his tongue as he entered her quickly, with one full thrust.

Esterasúle cried out into his mouth as he filled her painfully. He held himself still, waiting on her to accommodate his size as best she could. He was much larger than any Elf, and her virgin body was not made to easily take him in. She laid beneath him a moment or two then began to move, wanting the pleasure to return and take away the pain. He began to move in time with her, letting her set the pace. He groaned as his pleasure built, her small soft grunts driving him as wild as her taste had.

However, he stilled again, looking at her a moment. "Are you alright?" Afraid that his size was just too much for her. She nodded, fingers dancing over his skin. He began to move again, slowly at first then picking up pace. He reached between them, stroking at her nub to set her nerves on fire and build her pleasure. She began to moan. Her pleasure over riding any discomfort she was having. Her moans and grunts grew. She bit into her lip as she felt herself grow close to what she could only assume was her climax.

He licked at her lips, her chin before moving to her sensitive ear, sucking on the lobe then up to the tip. The sensations were just too much for Esterasúle. She clinched around him tightly, crying out softly. Her already tight, hot walls squeezing him like a vise sent him over the edge as well. His hot seed shooting inside of her.

She panted and looked at him, refraining from hissing as he withdrew from her. Her face twisted slightly, however. He watched her silently, sitting next to her. She laid there for a time before dozing off, moving toward him in her sleep. He found himself stroking her hair absently and wondering what was going on. He felt this need to preserve her life. He just did not know of any way to do it. Little did he know, he already had.


	6. Chapter 6

After several days of searching, the band of Orc had been found and killed. The Elves had somehow lost the trail of any that remained, if there was one to pick up. Glorfindel, his second in command Liníta, and the twins had been out with no sleep trying to find any trace of where the Orc had gone. Liníta was of the opinion something far more than Orc was at work. She could think of no other way her lead scout would be unable to find any sign at all as to what happened to the young Elf-maid and the Uruk-hai that was no longer with the Orc.

She and Glorfindel continued to have the guard work in turns to find the missing Elf-maid, or at least her body, and her Uruk-hai captor. Trusting in the guards to do as they were bid, the four Elves had returned to Imladris for a short rest before returning to the search. They were all fatigued and battle wary. Dirt covered their usually bright and prim continence.

Liníta and Elrohir rode ahead of Elladan and Glorfindel occasionally conversing over something trivial. Elrohir saying much more than the stoic female beside him. He eventually gave up, just staring ahead in a very grim manner. Like him, Glorfindel and Elladan rode in silence, looking quite unhappy about the turn of events. Thoughts of what Orc would do to any Elf played through all their minds. An unspoken thought in all their heads that the girl was likely dead.

As they grew closer to the structures of the realm, Glorfindel spotted a figure moving toward them. Taking only a moment to realize just who he saw, he turned his horse in the direction of the wondering Elf-maid. Elrohir, noticing his slightly faster pace and his change in direction, stopped his horse and turned in his saddle. "What is he doing?" He asked his remaining companions.

Liníta did not answer, following her captain. No matter where he led, she was bound by her station to follow him, at least in matters of the guard which this seemed to be. Elladan looked at his brother. "I don't know." His eyes followed the two older Elves.

Glorfindel pulled his horse to a stop as he neared the Elf-maid. "You are to be in the healing house." Was the girl wanting to get herself killed as well? Did she want to leave her father with no one? Glorfindel's blood warmed in anger at the thoughts but he stilled his reaction.

Elrohir saw just who had caught Glorfindel's attention and quickly rode forward in case she needed healing. Mirima was prone, it seemed, to trouble. At least causing it, and this time the trouble was toward her health. He made it to her side in time to hear her reply, "I am healed. I'm going to find my sister. Something which you people have not been able to do as of yet."

"Now listen here, Elfling," Glorfindel started. He did not like anyone second guessing his command or the ability of the guard. He trained each one of them personally before handing them off to their troop leaders. And, if for some reason he did not work with them, Liníta did and she was much more hard on them than he ever was.

"You think you are more capable than we are?" Liníta cut her captain off with a biting tone toward Mirima. She was tired, dirty, hungry, and angry. They did not have the time to babysit the missing girl's sister, and defend themselves in the process. She just wanted the girl to go back to where she belonged so they could do their duty.

"Well you haven't found anything," Mirima bit back. The two females had little use for one another. Mirima thought Liníta was to stickler and uppity, always duty and honor first then her life. Of course, from what she had seen, the older Elf-maid had only her duty for a life. While Liníta felt the younger Elf-maid was reckless, disrespectful, and immature. She saw little future for the other save living off her father less she straightened up. "You can't keep me in there. I'm a free being." Mirima moved forward to leave.

"Rima, don't start," Elrohir half growled. He was not much in the mood for her antics either. Usually sweet and soft spoken, this would have taken the girl by surprise if she was really listening to him. All he got for his effort was a dark glare.

"Let her go," Liníta told Elrohir. Mirima was not trained to track as well as the guards. If she wanted to get lost in the woods that was her choice. She moved her horse back and out of the way as Mirima moved around the others.

"She is not to be wandering around," Elladan, who had followed his brother, spoke up. "Father's orders," he added, figuring that would make both Glorfindel and Liníta move to stop the girl more quickly.

"Your father can stuff it," Mirima shot at Elladan as she continued on.

Liníta spoke as Mirima did. "Right now, I don't rightly care." She turned her mount toward the direction of the stables. "Her sister is likely dead or we would have found her with the Orcs." If anything would strike home to the child, that would be it. Liníta was tired of the conversation and the wasted time.

Mirima looked at Liníta with wide eyes, tears beginning to stream down her face. She quickly turned and ran toward the stables to get her mount, not believing that her sister was dead. She had to find her, even if she was. Her body could not be left to the wilds or the Orc.

Elladan turned on Liníta with a fierce glare. "Why do you have to be so cruel?" He demanded.

Liníta, having ignored the Elf-maid's reaction completely, looked to the elder twin. "Why do you have to be so naive an innocent?" She had to admit, that was not the best come back she could have thought of, but she was tired and they were all being stupid.

"I am not naive, Sarafea," he answered, not caring how she took him calling her that. He could see the reason so many did.

Her eyes grew hot as the lava in Mordor. "Your father may be the lord of this realm, but that gives you no right, _child_, to speak to me so." Her horse pranced in place, agitated that his mistress was agitated.

"If you acted as someone who deserves my respect, you may have it." He looked much like his father as he eyed her coolly.

"I don't want your respect. I don't need it." She looked to Glorfindel. "I'm going back out, Captain." Before Glorfindel could veto her plan, she kicked her mount away from them for the borders.

"Elladan, that was uncalled for." Glorfindel could tell they were all tired and cranky. He did his best to keep his voice neutral.

"Just because you are taken with her, doesn't mean she doesn't need put in her place." He turned his horse and rode after Mirima.

Elrohir sighed. "Well, what do we do now?" He looked to the golden haired Elf. Things could not have gone much worse.

Glorfindel, like Elrohir, felt they had gone very badly. He did not call after Elladan like he was urged to do. The boy had been wrong in his thought that Liníta's place was below his. He knew little about the lady she had been before coming to Imladris. "Eat and then go back out. She's right, you know. The maid is likely dead."

"I know, but she did not need to say it as though Tera's life means nothing." He turned and followed his brother's path toward the stables.

Glorfindel nodded, more to himself, and followed. He hoped Liníta did not harm herself. She was prone to overdoing her duties, though she rode her unit hard when they tried the same thing. She would push them harder than any of the others were pushed, but she took care of them like they were her own children. He would have to hurry with his food and rest so he could keep a close eye on her.

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Bubhoshbujar and Esterasúle had been walking for some time. Her mind on the fact that his life had become linked to hers and hers to his kept her quiet. Something she had not been since she had finally started fighting him a few days prior. He found the silence nice but eerie.

"You speak little today." He looked down at her.

"This bothers you? I thought you liked my silence." She did not look up at him, afraid her eyes would betray too much.

He sighed. "Things change, Shauzog." He used the pet name without thought before hand, wondering why it was so easy afterwards.

She looked up at him and smiled. "They do indeed."

"We will be at your home by the end of the week." Figuring that this would be good news, the dimming of the light in her eyes puzzled him.

"I know." She nodded, voice sad.

"Has the cold become worse?" He could think of no other reason for her demeanor change.

She sighed a heavy sigh, figuring he has the right to know. "It has lessened. It is still there but . . ." She faltered, voice trailing off.

"But what?" He was growing concerned, something he could not remember ever feeling for another before.

"Something fights it now," she spoke softly. She was uncertain how he would take the news she had for him.

"And that would be?" He was growing frustrated but fought to keep it from his voice. He did not want her to clam up on him.

"You." Her voice was very soft.

He gave her a slight smile despite knowing what that meant for them both. "That good, am I?" He asked jokingly, trying to lighten her mood. She cracked a small smile. He took her hand. "I . . ." He struggled for the words never having said anything like what he wanted, taking a few moments to get them to form and come out. "I am sorry I have condemned you to death." He knew as soon as he died, and he was certain his master would want to see it done, she would start to fade more quickly than she had been.

"It is alright." She wrapped his hand in both of hers. "As long as . . . Well . . . You let me fight for you."

He immediately took the defensive on her behalf. "I will not have you injured in battle."

She smiled, his wanting her safe warming her. "I have to do something."

"You will go home and be safe." He urged her on. She continued forward, silent again. "I wish for you to be safe," he told her, stopping her. He bent down and kissed her gently.

She leaned into him. "I wish the same for you."

"I will be safe. I will journey to the West after you are within your borders." He was leaving no room for her to argue. She nodded but leaned farther into him, breathing his sent instead of moving away to continue their journey. He wrapped his arms around her, knowing it was what she wanted, needed. Their moment was broken, however, abruptly.

"Let her go," Mirima stepped toward them with her sword drawn. She had heard nothing of what was said, paid no attention how he was holding her sister just that he was, and she wanted his blood.

Esterasúle stiffened and backed up from Bubhoshbujar easily as he did not fight it. "Mirima?" She looked on her sister with shock. "You're alive?" Though she wanted to race to her sister, the sword pointed at her mate kept her from leaving his side.

"Of course I live," Mirima answered as though there could be no doubt.

"I thought you dead." Esterasúle's eyes stayed on the sword. "You don't need that. Put it away."

"Of course I need this." She looked at her sister as though she were crazy. Her tone was one that she was an authorative on everything.

Bubhoshbujar remained silent. He was willing to see how things played out, knowing for the moment it was best. "No, you don't," Esterasúle insisted. "You won't be using it."

"So this _THING_ is just going to let us walk away without a fight?" She bit out, snarling in the Uruk's direction, motioning with her sword toward him.

Without thought, Esterasúle snapped at her sister. "_HE_ has a name, Sister." Her eyes hardened as she looked on her little sister.

Mirima was taken aback, looking at her sister in shock. She frowned after a moment. "What has he done to you?"

"Nothing," Esterasúle said, not liking her sister demeaning her mate though Mirima had no reason to trust him.

"You act as if you're friends. I know he's the one that took you from your horse." She had seen the arrow strike her sister. She could see the same style of arrow on the Uruk's back. Taking a step forward, she tightened the grip on her sword. The memories making her want the Orc's blood.

Esterasúle could see her sister's intentions and she knew the other was not alone. She turned to her mate. "Go! She is likely not alone. They will try to kill you." Her voice begged Bubhoshbujar to head her warning and run. More for his sake than her own.

"Tera!" Mirima exclaimed in shock, horror that her sister would free such a creature. "What are you doing?" Had her sister gone mad?

Esterasúle glanced at her sister. "Something you would not understand, Rima. Something none of them will." She looked back to her mate. He brushed the side of her face with his thumb before leaning down to kiss her gently. After returning the kiss, Esterasúle begged him, "For me, go before they kill you. Go West. Live."

Mirima, in shock from the kiss, took a moment to respond to the sight. "Tera, did you . . ." She looked at the Uruk. How could she have? He was an Orc, an Uruk!

"Did I what?" She turned to her sister tone defensive. "Can't you even say it?"

"You bedded him? Bonded with him?" Her mind reeled at this. Her sister had. She had bonded to an Uruk-hai!

"I did." She dared her sister with her eyes to say or do a thing about it.

Mirima closed her eyes for a moment and lowered her sword. To hurt the Uruk was to hurt her sister as well. And to kill him as she truly wanted, had wanted, was something she could never do or allow another to do. For being so smart and mature, her sister had made a mess of things.

They were all distracted as Elladan come from the trees, smiling at first. "You've found her! And alive!" Then he noticed Bubhoshbujar. He froze, and as he did so the guard that were behind him did. They all raised their bows as Elladan did his sword. He watched in wonder as both Elf-maids stepped between them and the Uruk. "What are you doing?" He looked from one girl to the other.

"Turroquen, go!" Esterasúle pleaded with her mate.

"For her, go." Mirima looked at her sister, letting her know it was only for her she said this.

He nodded and left in the opposite direction. Elladan jumped forward but they would not let him around. "What are you two doing?" He exclaimed.

Esterasúle watched him go. When she could no longer see him, she fell to her knees. Mirima moved to her side, putting an arm around her. "Once you see father you can go after him," she whispered.

"He wants me to be safe, to stay home." She looked to the ground, heartbreaking at the thought of never seeing him again. She had no idea the feelings would be so strong. The love, the loss.

"You will be better off with him." Mirima knew how the Elves of the realm would treat her once they found out, and they would. They always found out about such things, things no one wants known.

"I know." Her voice was soft and defeated, empty.

"We will find him together once father knows you're safe," she promised.

Esterasúle nodded, struggling to stand. "Let's go home."

Mirima helped her to her feet, stumbling a little herself. She had been out for a day straight, riding hard, and was not fully healed. She ignored the looks the guards were giving them, especially her sister. "We need to return home," she told them. They wanted to go after the Uruk, that was obvious, and she had to stall. He needed time to get as far away as he could before they followed. "It is your place to see us there." They had to reluctantly agree that Elrond had said their first priority was Esterasúle's return, in whatever manner she was found.

Upon returning to Imladris at the end of the next day, Mirima was tired of watching her sister stare off or at her hands. The guards looked at her in detest, and Esterasúle refused to look at them in any way. "I'll go get father," she said once her sister was on the ground from her horse. "You should be checked out in the healing house." Esterasúle nodded, turning to go, alone. "Dan, take her there."

Reluctantly, Elladan moved forward and took the girl's arm. The rest of the guards dispersed, none going near Esterasúle. He led her toward the healing house, neither saying a word.

Mirima wasted no time going to find Talcanno, who rushed to his eldest's side. He immediately pulled her to his arms, holding her tightly. She leaned against him heavily. "Sweets, what's wrong?" He could always tell when something was bothering one of his daughters.

"I dare not tell you." She stared at his chest, burrowing into his embrace.

"You know you can tell me anything," he urged.

"I . . . The Uruk that was with the Orcs . . . Adar, I bonded with him." She spoke softly, refusing to look up at him, afraid to see the disappointment and rejection she got from everyone else.

Not loosening his hold, he asked, "How . . ." Figuring that was a stupid question seeing as there was really only one true way, he tried again. "Why?"

"He was giving his life for mine. He's sweet, gentle." He was so many things she wanted in a mate. He sighed and nodded. Taking this as a sign he was, in fact, disappointed, she reacted. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry if you truly care for him." He could not imagine an Elf and an Uruk, but it was apparently possible.

"I do." She nodded.

"Alright." He kissed her forehead. "Where is this Uruk?" He wanted to meet the one that was bonded to his eldest daughter, to judge him for himself.

"I sent him West. He will be safer." Much safer, she thought.

"You will go after him?" He did not so much ask as say. If she was bonded to him, her heart could not take being so far apart.

"He doesn't want me to. He wants me to stay here where it is safe, but . . . What life will I have when everyone knows? The guards already shun me."

"We will move. Away from this place." He looked down at her.

She looked up, shocked. "But this is your home." She could not force him to leave. All he had was in Imladris.

"If they cannot accept my daughter's choice then it is no home of mine," he answered.

She hugged him to her tightly. "I love you, Ada." In one way or another, both her father and her sister stuck by her. In her mind, she had one of the best families possible.


End file.
